


Rivier van Geesten

by whiskers542



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Existential Crisis, Fantasy AU, Fluff, M/M, Paul is a monster, Yuu is a faun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskers542/pseuds/whiskers542
Summary: Paul tries to comprehend death with his sleeping friend, Yuu.Whoa I’m bad at summaries.





	Rivier van Geesten

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is actually based on a drawing I made a long ass time ago! I made this for a final project for a short story class and just never got around to posting it. :P
> 
> The original drawing vv
> 
> https://orig00.deviantart.net/c8b9/f/2018/067/1/8/fireflies_by_simor_trapepe-dc5ckup.jpg

Soft moonlight filtered through the thick trees and into foggy clearing in brilliant beams, dancing along the surface of an almost still forest pool. Most of the inhabitants of the forest were asleep at this time of night. Of course, there were a few creatures who thrived in the darkness of the forest, like the demons or vampires, the countless fireflies buzzing through the clearing and a few others. But those creatures aren’t the focus of this story. Well, who is the focus of this story, you may be asking. That question brings us back to our forest clearing, for towards the far southern end of the pool there was a log and leaning against that log were two daytime creatures. A male faun and a monster. How odd that a forest monster be up this late at night, is it not? His biological clock must be off. As for the faun, he looked to be asleep. His upper body was pressed into the monster’s pink sweater. His blonde hair looked as if it’d been styled straight up at some point, but now there were a few loose strands falling into his pale, spotted face. He was an interesting looking creature indeed, not deer nor man, but rather a mix of the two. A man’s chest and face placed upon a deer’s hind legs. Odd, is it not? You see, this was no ordinary forest. It was a monster’s forest, created hundreds of years ago by a woodland spirit whose name has been long forgotten. The humans had dubbed this stretch of trees Durdam Forest. A fitting name indeed, for the very definition of the word  _ durdam _ is “hard to contain” and believe me, the creatures in this forest were very hard to contain. It was home to many strange things, so in retrospect it’s safe to say that a man-deer is considered normal in a place such as this. 

Resting upon the faun’s left shoulder was a clawed pink hand with matching pink fur climbing up from it’s wrist until it disappeared under the sleeve of a pink hooded sweater. The fabric led to the monster. He had a perplexed expression on his face, his blue eyes looking glazed and a little lost. He must work hard if the bags under his eyes are any indication. He must be the guardian monster of this forest. How interesting. It was extremely uncommon for a monster to reside in his own habitat of creation for this long without destroying and killing everything. Monsters are a rare breed indeed, for they can only exist through the creation of a spirit’s landscape. This specimen was a forest monster. It was obvious, the thick pink fur and earthy smell was a dead giveaway. He had a long tail, covered in that same thick fur as most other parts of his body. It vaguely resembled that of a squirrel’s tail, unlike the rest of his monster features. He shifted a little, pulling his free hand out of his hoodie pocket and carding it through his disheveled brown hair, carefully avoiding the two wavy pink horns resting atop his head. When that was done, he used it to gently shift the faun’s left antler out of his face too. He chewed on the butt of the cigarette resting between his thin lips. Ah, he shouldn’t do that, his sharp teeth punctured through the filter in seconds and he felt a few pieces of fiberglass fall under his tongue. He should spit that out, yes. Will he? Probably not. He snuffed the crooked stick out in the dirt and put in his pocket. 

“Hey, Yuu,” he decided he’d voice his thoughts. The faun next to him, Yuu was apparently his name, didn’t move a muscle, but the monster knew he could hear. He shifted the hand on his shoulder and started a steady beat with two of his fingers on Yuu’s neck. That was better, “In all my three hundred years of life, I’ve never been able to comprehend the concepts of life and death. There are so many ways to describe things such as that. It’s both incredibly simple and incredibly complicated at the same time. From a factual standpoint, life is the constant creation of cells and death is what happens when all those cells run out, correct?”

 

“Paul, what are you talking about?” Yuu asked, though his mouth didn’t move. He didn’t move at all. Paul decided to ignore the question. He gently pushed Yuu’s head back up to a more normal looking position and shifted his shoulder so it wouldn’t fall again.

 

“But I keep thinking it’s deeper than that. Everything dies, that’s a fact, but what forces are driving death? What being decides when it’s time for something to die? Is there ever really anything after we die? Will we just end up floating around aimlessly in an empty black void where we can relive the mistakes in our lives or will we just… Cease to exist?

 

Well, I’ve been talking to Tim a lot lately and I’ve gathered enough information to form two possible views on the matter. Two categories. One which I’ve dubbed naturalism and the other existentialism. The external view, naturalism is factual, a neutral reporting of events if you will, while at the same time keeping a view to remaking and improving man’s conditions. The internal view, existentialism, focuses on the experiences of the individual, what happens within… The views are polar opposites. Naturalists don’t believe in any sort of afterlife, they believe that a life is given to create a better future for men on earth. He must struggle through the hardships that life throws at him. Survival is a good thing and death, since it’s a threat to human survival, is bad. Death is a pointless loss of life, nothing more than the end of the line for one man’s contributions to society. If he lived a good life, he will have gotten married and had strong healthy children who can continue his contributions in his absence. Death is meaningless and absurd. However, the meaninglessness in death is more of a starting point than a final answer for existentialists. When a man faces the absurdity of his own death, only then can he comprehend his death as it is. Death opens doors, rather than closing them… Does that make sense, Yuu?”

 

No response. Paul felt a hot flash of fire bubble up in his stomach and pump through his blood into the rest of body. Why was Yuu ignoring him? He was trying to explain something he found interesting, but the faun seemed to have zero interest in the monster’s existential crisis. He dully wondered what he could do to gain the other creature’s undivided attention. What did he have that Yuu could possibly want? Nothing. Paul had nothing. What a shame, it looks like he wouldn’t be able to buy his best friend’s attention this time. Just as fast as it had come, the anger melted away and in its path it left a hollow feeling in his chest. His shoulders felt heavy and his eyes suddenly had trouble staying open. All the thoughts in his head derailed in a tragic and horrific manner and the drumming of his fingers on Yuu’s neck came to a stop. He didn’t want to let go yet. He wasn’t ready for this. Life was such a cruel thing.. Unfair in every way possible. It took everything it wanted whenever it wanted. How was one supposed to stop a death with such an unstoppable force driving it? Yuu’s head fell against Paul’s shoulder again and the monster gently patted his soft blonde hair. His eyes trailed down to the red liquid staining sticky brown fur. It soaked into the forest floor in a small pool and quite a bit of it had been collected by the fur on the monster’s legs and paws. Yuu hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t moved. He wasn’t breathing. He was gone. Paul decided not to put this off any longer. He got to his paws, hooking his arms under the corpse of his friend before it could fall over. He was so cold to the touch and his eyes, once full of life and excitement, were now dull and glassy as if he’d been stuffed and the taxidermist filled his eye sockets with marble replicas of Yuu’s once pretty baby blue eyes. 

The river was wide and slow. It wound through the trees without a care in the world. This river was dubbed Rivier van Geesten. It was Dutch, the literal translation being  _ River of Spirits _ . It was believed that any creature laid to rest along the Rivier van Geesten would live a fruitful and fortunate afterlife. Many humans often came through the forest to send their loved ones down this sacred river. The braver ones would even dip their hands in and drink the life-sustaining water, which was said to extend a creature’s health beyond their fated day of death. Did Paul believe these legends? Yes. He did.

The monster idly weaved flowers together. Roses and daisies had always been Yuu’s favorites, so he used those exclusively. Each flower represented a memory. Each flower had a near silent promise whispered into it before its stem was weaved into the mat. There were hundreds of flowers, hundreds of whispers, hundreds of promises for the passed buck. Paul looked at the flower he had in his hand. It was the last one he needed. He had to make this a good one. 

“Yuu.. I want you to know that you’ve always been my best friend and you always will be. I’m never gonna forget you, I promise. I only hope that you don’t forget me, wherever you are. I love you.” 

The bright yellow rose twirled between a clawed forefinger and thumb for but a moment before it was added to the thick blanket in front of the monster. All the promises and memories were sent downstream with the faun that made them happen and whose name would be remembered for as long as the guardian monster of Durdam Forest would live. 

 

Soft moonlight filtered through the thick trees in brilliant beams, dancing along the surface of a sacred river weaving through a dense forest. It illuminated a body floating downstream on a bed of flowers. In its hands, folded over its chest, was a picture. A picture of a faun with spiky blonde hair and an arm wrapped around his shoulders. An arm that was pink and fuzzy and led up to the body of a large scruffy looking monster, a monster who was sitting by that same river, trying desperately to fill a hole in his heart; a hole that couldn’t be filled, no matter how hard he tried; a hole that would stick with him until the day he too was floating down that river on a bed of flowers and finally understanding the answers to his questions.

  
  



End file.
